


Drive On

by TheAnonymousJoker



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Mystery, Post Finale, Romance, Three Years Later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:32:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAnonymousJoker/pseuds/TheAnonymousJoker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[currently suspended]</p><p>Three years after Peter left Hemlock Grove, he returns. He's not at all who he was back then, and he knows he never will be again. But at the request of Destiny, he graces Hemlock Grove's presence once more. And the wounds he thought had closed over time threaten to rip open. As painful as it is, he thinks all is well, but that bliss is shattered when he finds himself tossed back into the affairs of Roman Godfrey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drive On

**Author's Note:**

> I should make it clear that I've never read the book, nor do I really intend to, so this is based entirely off the new series. Good? Good, great, grand. Let's get to it, then.

Peter’s heart felt weighted down by lead. He could barely breathe. Wind filtered through his hair. The last time he’d seen this road, he’d been bald. Three years. It felt like yesterday. Three years, two months. Peter hadn’t healed. If anything, he had fallen through a little crack in his sanity. Three years, two months, seven days. The familiar scent of Hemlock Grove filled his nostrils as Lynda turned up the volume on the radio. Peter wanted to drown it all out. He didn’t want to be back. Hemlock Grove… it wasn’t the place for him. And yet here he was, sitting next to his mother, his hair grown back, three years, two months and seven days later—Hemlock Grove.

It looked the same. Everything did. The last leaves of autumn crunched under tires and chill began to envelop the air. Houses still stood and people still lived. When Peter had left, Hemlock Grove had been frozen. Stuck in a sliver of a moment. Time had stopped.

It moved now. If it had been the first time he’d seen the town, maybe Peter would have liked the feel of it. Maybe it would have felt like a quiet home for a gypsy. One where staying would welcome smiles and community, but where leaving would be met with a polite smile and farewell. Peter liked those types of places. But Hemlock Grove was not one of those places.

The trailer looked the same, too. The hammock swung slightly in the breeze, and the red spray-painted slurs had faded with time and weather. When Lynda threw the door open, Peter wasn’t surprised to find only a thin layer of dust. The memory of when they’d first moved to Hemlock Grove overwhelmed Peter. He could smell the summer day, taste the warm sun, and feel the relaxed bliss. The ignorance, really.

Lynda said nothing as she set up Nicolai’s photo and trinkets. It was the first thing she did wherever they went. In Nevada, she’d forgone gambling and hydration just to prepare Nicolai’s altar. In Canada, she had spent nearly ten minutes without a coat in order to make Nicolai’s presence known. Peter admired his mother for such dedication, and it wasn’t a rare thought that, perhaps, Nicolai, even just a photo, kept Lynda sane. Peter wished he had someone like that.

It wasn’t until the taste of blood hit his tongue that Peter realized he’d bitten his lip far too hard. He _had_ had someone like that. He’d had _several_ people like that. And he’d lost them all. Lost them to his foolishness. His youth. His nature.

The hair was no longer in his sink. Peter wondered pointlessly where it’d gone. Had it just decayed? Had it been removed? Had it simply disappeared? Three years, two months, and seven days ago, he would have thought that nearly impossible. Now, he didn’t know. Perhaps rhyme and reason was no longer necessary. Perhaps it was to those who lived day to day. Perhaps that was why it meant so much to Peter those three years, two months, and seven days ago. Day to day, week to week, month to month— passing time with no meaning.

He’d lost those people that made it worth living every day like the last. Days blended together now. Months and years. Peter barely knew the difference anymore; it was all the same.

Lynda’s hand found her son’s shoulder. She pulled Peter to face her and stared at him. His eyes, her baby’s eyes, were flat and lifeless. Not sad, even. Not anymore. Just dead. Blue no longer the color of sapphire, but the color of a corpse’s lips. Peter blinked languidly, only barely refocusing on his mother’s face.

Lynda sighed quietly. It was something she’d done a lot in the past years. There was nothing she could say—not really—and there was even less Peter would want from her. She had accepted that he was not the son she’d had before Hemlock Grove. He was still a werewolf, still a gypsy, and still Peter, but he wasn’t _Peter_.

Clearing her throat, Lynda said, “Well, I suppose we’ll need food. I’m going to the store. Be back soon.” Peter nodded and watched blankly as his mother pulled her bag over her shoulder and disappeared out the door, leaving him and his thoughts alone in the trailer. His fingers found the edge of the table and he slumped into himself with a faint sigh. He really needed to see Destiny. That’s why he was even in Hemlock Grove again, after all.

Peter didn’t register walking the five miles to Destiny’s house. The exercise was mindless and monotonous. The house itself looked the same as it did last time he saw it. It glowed as a neon beacon in the middle of an otherwise-unassuming street.

The door flew open and Destiny’s face grew astonished as she threw herself at Peter.

“Peter! You actually came!”

Smiling weakly, Peter said, “I am Rumancek. I do as my blood asks.” It was true. Peter would do anything for the small pool of Rumanceks left. And Destiny, being his favorite cousin and perhaps only friend left, was at the top of his list.

“In, in!” Destiny commanded, waving Peter into the house. It still smelled of strong incense and the slight musk of mingled sweat and sex. Peter dropped onto his cousin’s sofa and ran a hand through his hair. Destiny sat next to him and just stared for a good minute. It was unsettling for Peter, just a little, but Destiny’s gaze passed him twice before returning to his eyes.

Peter hazarded a conversation. “How’s Hemlock?” It wasn’t the right way to begin, as it turned out.

Destiny’s brow clenched and a frown found its way to her lips. “It’s fucked,” she said simply. “Crazy little town, this one is. I know why Nic loved it so much.”

Peter nodded. He knew it wouldn’t be good. Even a town like Hemlock Grove—maybe especially a town like Hemlock Grove—couldn’t possibly go back to the way it was before after everything that had happened those three years ago. People are malleable, but even rubber breaks.

“You know,” Destiny began, her voice dropping to a slightly lower level, “he still comes. Once a week, every week.”

Peter didn’t understand what his cousin meant for a split second. And then it hit him. Roman.

God, it felt like so long since he’d allowed that name to pass his lips. He’d forced Roman to disappear from his memory. Perhaps that hadn’t been a good idea. Perhaps Peter needed Roman. Hell, of course Peter needed Roman. They needed each other. And Peter had left.

“Looking for her, mostly. But sometimes, sometimes I think he’s looking for you.”

Peter bit his lip. “He hasn’t found Shelley?” It felt weird to say her name after so long. An odd sound to a Romanian tongue. And it was a stupid question, too. Peter knew Roman hadn’t found Shelley. Shelley was not to be found.

“No.”

As expected. Peter sighed deeply, letting the air shake as it left his lips. He longed for a cigarette. It had been one of the things he’d given up when he left. He told Lynda it was for his health. He knew it was for his punishment. A cigarette, a cigar, a joint, it was all too positive. He didn’t deserve positive.

Destiny leant over and found Peter’s wrist, which she gripped tightly. Peter knew she was finding his pulse. He didn’t know why, nor did her particularly care. “He knows. Finally figured it out. Killed the old bitch in the process, too.”

Peter caught Destiny’s gaze and held it for a few long seconds. “Good.”

“Yeah,” she agreed halfheartedly. Peter pulled his wrist away and fiddled with the rings on his fingers. They hadn’t changed, either.

Thick silence fell over the cousins. It wasn’t that there was nothing to be said, but that there was too much. Where to even begin? Peter had changed so much, and Destiny knew it.

“So, uh,” she began as she pulled her legs up under her, “I know you don’t like it here, Peter, but I asked that you guys come for a reason.”

Peter stared expectantly at her. He didn’t care enough to correct her, to tell her that no, he didn’t like it here, he loved it here. Hemlock Grove, it felt like home. _Home_. What a funny word. One a gypsy shouldn’t know, not really. But here, this place, this twisted and painful place, it felt like home. Even without Letha, Roman, Christina, or Shelley. Gypsies knew the best homes were the ones that had already been lived in. Perhaps that made Hemlock Grove the only home for Peter. He lived in it once, broke it in, broke in it, and now, a second time. But ghosts of the town three years ago still haunted him. Maybe they would forever.

“Peter?”

Peter blinked. He hadn’t realized Destiny had been talking. He had changed in that way. He used to be impulsive, and now all he could do was think—dig himself into a hole in his head.

“Like I was saying, I think there are thieves running around Hemlock Grove.”

Peter scoffed. “First, Lynda and I are not crime fighters. Second, isn’t that a bit ironic? A gypsy trying to catch a thief?”

Destiny rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t usually care, you know, but they’ve stolen something of mine. Something,” she paused, “important.”

“Like?” Peter prompted.

Destiny waved her hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. I just want it back. And I just thought you and Lynda would be of help.”

Peter’s brow furrowed slightly. It was a strange request from Destiny. She was the woman to do anything and everything alone. But she called Peter and Lynda. Which meant whatever had been stolen, it would be important to the entire Rumancek family. That scared him. What did Destiny have that would affect them all? And why would anyone in Hemlock Grove want it?

“Please, Peter?”

He bit his lip and nodded. “We’re already here. I don’t see why we can’t look into it. But remember, D, I’m no cop.”

Destiny smiled and pulled Peter into a hug. “Wouldn’t think of it.”


End file.
